The Nighthunter
by Modicus
Summary: This is an introductory background, in brief, about the character of Nichneven Nighthunter, who also appears in the story 'When Flowers Go Bad  Part I'. A more detailed story about her early years, and other adventures, are in the works. Enjoy R&R plz!


**The Nighthunter**

Moonlight flashed on the rooftop as the clouds rolled back, briefly illuminating the archer against the night sky. Cursing softly, he edged back closer into the shadow of a chimney, his eyes still scanning the street below for his mark. It was almost time.

Though the sudden lack of cloud cover was annoying, he could still slay and be gone before anyone spotted him. Shifting his bow to a more comfortable position, he reached back for an arrow from the quiver secreted just behind the stonework of the three-story townhouse.

The archer's finger's twitched as they met warm skin instead of fletching. He whipped his head around in time meet golden yellow eyes with his own startled ones.

"Hi there!" said Nichneven, as she shoved the hapless archer off the roof.

The sound of solid flagstones meeting surprised assassin was most satisfying.

She came to Benzor in the night, rain-soaked and weary. With little in the way of possessions or hope, the exhausted sometimes-thief had stumbled into the first warm door she had seen: The Silver Spoon. That night, it seemed to Nichneven that she had wandered half of Nordock, to finally end up here, at a journey's end.

Settled in a warm corner with a blanket around her cold shoulders and a mug of spiced ale, the barkeep Mary had made it her night's duty to ensure the silent woman with ruby skin felt comfortable in the cozy tavern.

Mary also made it known to the stranger that though gold was preferred as payment for the ale as well as a bed to sleep in, she would take other things in trade.

At the tiefling's startled look, Mary waved her hands and laughed.

"No, lass, not at all like that. Items you might have found, or will find. You have the look of an adventurer about you, in addition to your… unique appearance." Mary eyed the thin figure up and down, then said "I'll wager you a hot meal that by next week, you'll be paying your own way in Benzor." She nodded to herself, then went to the bar.

Soon enough, Nichneven put paid to Mary's words. Finding Benzor to be an accepting place, at least of tieflings, the sometimes-thief went to work, though outside the city's walls. Caves, goblins, orcs and ogres soon found themselves beset by a new danger: Nichneven, whose thirst for both gold and the Krendall's Bitter made her a fearsome for to the monsters that lurked near Benzor's walls.

Of course, it was the dangers inside the city walls that soon caught Nichneven's attentive ire. Her adopted city's streets were still dangerous, in the places where the Guard's lanterns did not reach. Alleyways whose darkness was never broken by the sun were a favourite place for footpads to lurk, along with other less-savory creatures.

Within a month, footpads and creatures both soon found other places to be.

Those who would use Benzor as their own hunting ground soon found it already belonged to another. She who begrudged little in the way of violence towards those who would prey on her adopted home's citizens, friends and neighbours.

Sometimes, she would arrive in darkness, giving no more warning to her prey than the dropping of the pitch dark upon their heads, a tiefling's gift. She sometimes accompanied it with a sphere of sulphurous fumes tossed amongst the panicked men, lending credence to their terrorized rumour that she was a creature of the Hells themselves!

Lashing out inside a circle of pitch black, the tiefling who called herself Nichneven would often let confusion do her work for her. Leaning against a handy wall, or dangling from a ceiling rafter, the sounds of pitched battle between immoral rogues and corrupt citizens often made her giggle hard enough to warrant a hand over her mouth, lest she give herself away. Usually, there was little left to do afterwards but drag moaning bodies out to be trussed for the Guard come the morning.

Of course, they were all left with their pockets empty. A girl had to eat, right?

Though she had been some months in Benzor, little aside from rumour connected Nichneven with the Nighthunter. Few of her 'victims' could give a clear description, in their terrorized state and given the utter darkness that her abilities let her fall upon them.

Among those at The Silver Spoon, few knew more about Nichneven's past than Mary, and she was close-lipped about anything to do with the Spoon's newest regular. Often seen in the company of Mary, Nichneven had confided some of her secrets to the bartender, and seemed the better for having talked to the elven woman late into the night.

Still, aside from a word or two about her 'former Master' and a 'Tower of Glass', the tiefling let slip little. Even kind words meant to open up a discussion of her past met with stone-silence, though Nichneven often broke that soon enough with a smile and the words "When it's time" met most inquiries as to when she would talk of her life gone by.

Right now, life in Benzor seemed interesting enough for any five tieflings.

Giggling, Nichneven mimicked the hapless guard's fall with her hands, as mug of fresh ale foamed in front of her. Fadra, her wizardess friend, smiled into her wine as the tumble met its finger-puppeted end on the unsoft boards of their table at the Silver Spoon.

"The best part is," continued the ruby-skinned tiefling, "They think I'm some sort of summoned demon, come to drag them to one of the Hells for their deeds. Since they're ALL guilty of some dire deed or another, it works to perfection!" She grinned and swallowed another swig of Kendall's Bitter while her tail punctuated her glee behind her.

Smiling, Mary looked over at the duo, seated at their usual table in the far corner of the bar. The tiefling was a far cry from the sodden waif who had wandered into the Spoon many months ago; her hearty laugh often turned heads in the Spoon now.

Of course, so did her appearance, but anyone who had eyes to see past startling crimson skin and a catlike tail could see a young woman just coming into her own. Her future seemed bright in Benzor, made moreso by the past she had come so far to escape.

Laughing, Nichneven peered past Fadra at a nearby window to judge the light in the evening sky. Soon enough, another night would grace the mostly peaceful streets of the city. She might actually take the night off, as things had been very quiet in the alleyways, of late.

Because this was Benzor, where the Nighthunter now prowled.

This is an 'intro' to the character of Nichneven Nighthunter, a little about how she came to arrive at the city of Benzor, in the world of Nordock.

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